The Memories of Little Moments
by EmeryEnya
Summary: Clint and Natasha have just returned from a mission. Natasha was captured and has a hard time taking care of some things. Clint can't watch her struggle so he steps in. My stories are usually better than my summaries so it's basically a fluffy little story about what spies do when they are off.
1. There and Back Again

Natasha had a love/hate relationship with her hair. On one hand, the rich red color was intimidating and it's thickness and natural curl not to mention the length made her feel sexy and deadly (which is a painfully accurate picture of herself). On the other hand the above mentioned thickness,curl, and length made every morning a struggle. Especially showers. Showers created a war between her and her unruly auburn locks. Today was no different but Natasha was determined. Battle or not she was GOING TO SHOWER.

Clint and her had just returned from their latest SHIELD mission and Natasha could barely walk straight. An unexpected extra few guards had thrown the whole plan off and she ended up getting captured. It took her team a number of hours before they could get to her. Clint was always been pretty stiff but she could tell from the tense shoulders and the fast pace of his steps as they walked toward their building on the base that he was more upset about the whole incident then she was. That was to be expected. Clint was savagely protective of her which Natasha thought was highly amusing but never told him so. They finally made it up to the penthouse they shared and Clint visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar rooms.

Natasha headed straight for the shower and was in pure bliss...until she got out and saw the state of her hair. Ugh. She sat in front of the T.V in the living room watching Dick Van Dyke reruns in yoga pants and a tank top. She quietly cussed in Russian as she attempted to comb out her hair. She was wincing and quietly grunting at the pain that her arms were creating. They were still sore from being hoisted up and holding all of her body weight for hours when she was waiting for her team.

Her small monologue of foreign expletives was cut off by Clint's voice and entrance into the room.

"Hey...Tasha?"

"Yeah?

"How are your arms?"

"Their fine."

"Let me help"

"It's ok I can do it."

Clint smirked at her stubbornness and walked over to where she was sitting on the floor in front of the couch. In one swift movement he sat down behind her and settled his legs on either side of her. He gently took the brush from her hand and leaned down close to her.

"That wasn't a question. I've got this, you can just relax." he stated softly and simply. Clint wasn't one for long winded eloquent speeches. Natasha gave him a small smile and focused her attention on the comedy show. Clint's hands moved slowly over her hair, working out the knots so gently she didn't even feel them. Thinking she picked the perfect program, Natasha smiled every time she heard Clint's soft, deep, chuckle at each joke that came from the speakers.

She rested the side of her head on Clint's knee as she waited for him to finish the braid he was putting her hair into. Though exhausted, she was content. Clint tied a band around the end of the french braid, and though his face gave nothing away he was proud of his work. He stood up and Natasha looked at him with her special, barely visible smile. She held up her hands to him, silently asking him to help her up. Clint's heart wrenched when he saw the flicker of pain that crossed her face when she moved. He bent down and, ignoring her hands, put one arm under her legs and the other around her back. Slowly he walked down the hall to Natasha's room, her head resting on his shoulder.

Though they both knew that there would come a day where they would loose one another they also knew that the memories of little moments like this would keep them going.


	2. The Importance of Braids

"It looks great Clint, thank you." said Natasha as she glanced in the mirror at herself, twisting her head in an effort to see more of the french braid that Clint put her hair in. "Where did you ever learn to braid like this?" she asked. Clint was smiled as he stood in front of the the sink, washing his hand in preparation for dinner. His mind wandered back to the memories of the best years of his life.

"But why?"

"Because I said so."

"Thats not enough."

"Well it's the only answer your getting son so that makes it good enough."

Fourteen year old Clint shook his head slightly at his trainers words. He knew better than to sigh out loud but that didn't stop the groaning he did in his head. Once again he picked up the hair brush and silently wondered if he could use it to make a big enough distraction to get away. He glanced around at the training center, measuring. Probably not, Anika, his twenty two year old captain, was pretty fast and the door was 20 yards away from where they were standing. Grimacing, he combed through the hair of his fellow trainee, a 13 year old female named Gwen. Her chestnut colored hair was very thick and Clint was struggling not to hurt her as he pulled it back. He could tell that she was enjoying this just about as much as he was which wasn't a whole heck of a lot. He separated the hair into three groups and tried, for the millionth time, to braid them together. Again, as it had every other time, the braid fell apart after he put the hair band on the end. Frustrated beyond belief, Clint finally lost it.

"This is stupid Anika! It doesn't work! We have spent a whole hour on this when I could be out on the range or with Joseph in the ring! Who cares if I can't braid! It's dumb anyway, this is never going to help me do anything important! I am going to be the laughing stock of the whole legion!"

Clint got angry so rarely so that when ever he did, people listened. He chanced a glance at Gwen and even though she said nothing he could tell she agreed with him. They were spies not hairdressers. Anika looked at them silently, letting the silence after his outburst continue for a few moments. Her eyes were understanding and had an affectionate spark, but they were still commanding when she spoke.

"Stupid huh. You found me out. I love absolutely wasting your time. It's not like I have anything else to do."

Clint had enough sense to hang his head in shame at her sarcasm. He immediately regretted his words. He couldn't believe he had not only shouted not only at his commander, the only person in this world who cared about him, he also accused her of incompetence. Anika continued, her voice calm but holding notes of authority and rebuke.

"Look, Clint, Gwen, I do have reasons, a lot actually, for why I need you to learn this. Think about it. You are doing recon and you need a rope but you don't have one or it's not long enough. You can't use just one vine or whatever is out there because it's too weak. What do you do? You braid anything together, boom, it's twice as strong. Don't believe me, go ask Charlie, he's used that trick so much now he prefers it. Not to mention when you have a strong target that normal ties won't hold. Braided rope instead of a single one and there is no way he is wiggling out of or cutting those fast. Heck even the Bible says it. Ecclesiastes 4:12, a cord of three strands is not easily broken. Is that good enough? No? Go ask Alta how she started that wild fire that gave us enough time to infiltrate and grab the target in Colomer. Spoiler alert, braided wild grass as impromptu fire bombs. Remember when I went undercover in that fishing village in England? Those fisherman have the most intense knots and ropes in the world. Know how they start their kids on learning how to make them? Braiding, that's how. You aren't always going to have these fancy gadgets that we train with, you need to know what to do if one of those babies goes out. This may seem trivial and sure you may be laughed at but it's worth it. The Delta squadron, Lukas, Pete, Ava, they don't know any of the stuff I have been teaching you and Gwen. They think their toys are going to be with them all the time but they aren't. That's why I am teaching you not just guns but archery, traps, hand to hand, hot wiring, getting in and out of moving cars with out killing yourself. Practical stuff that will help you. Excuse me for trying to save your damn lives."

Both Gwen and Clint looked at their feet then at each other. Both knew the magnitude of their mistake and, returning to military attention, raised their heads to look to their commander.

"We apologize Captain." They said in unison, using her official title instead of the familiar name that was the norm. "It won't happen again. Would you please continue?" they finished.

Anika's serious face broke into her characteristic smile and Gwen sat back down. Clint picked up her hair and began again as Anika watched over his shoulder, giving instructions.

Slowly the memory faded and left Clint alone, lost in his own thoughts. His heart ached so much he felt like it was going to break all of again. After Clint's parents died, Anika became his whole was his best friend, his mentor, his sister, his replacement mother. And then, just like that, she was gone. Sent on a mission as soon as he and Gwen were fully trained, and she never came back. Even after all these years the pain was just as vivd now as it was all those years ago when he would stay up till all hours of the night, thinking of her.

"Hawk? Are you ok?"

Natasha's voice brought him back to reality. He shook his head slightly and looked over at her.

"Yeah...yeah I'm ok. I'm sorry you asked me something, what was it?"

"I asked where you learned to braid like this."

"Oh. I just kinda picked it up." He said with a small smile but his eyes were sad and he looked down at the sink. He heard Natasha move and soon felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Anika." she asked softly. He nodded slowly. Natasha couldn't stand it any longer and she used her hand to turn him around and put her arms around him. Clint clung to her because she was the only thing that was keeping the pain from sweeping him away. They stood in the kitchen like that for a while longer, the tears of pain slowly washing his spirit clean and watering the seeds of healing in his soul.


End file.
